


Fael-en-Coth

by Aearyn



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings Online
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29926770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aearyn/pseuds/Aearyn
Summary: Ayren was born in Bree, but the death of her father at the hands of agents of Sauron catalyzed her to do what she could to combat the rising darkness. At the suggestion of a friend who was already embroiled in that fight, she embarked upon a long journey south and east, and has lately come to the lands of western Gondor. Here she met a corsair - ostensibly one of the 'enemy' - who parleyed honorably with her, and for that his men were slain by a rival captain. Now, he's asking Ayren for help.
Relationships: Jajax / Original Female Character
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Jajax doesn't even exist in the Ao3 characters or pairings which I assume means no one has written any fic about this dude, and honestly, that's fair. I've no idea why this side character compelled me to start a new fic when I haven't written anything in months, but hey, I'll take it. Actually I do know what compelled me: the enemies-to-lovers angle, but without the "we hate each other" preamble, which I normally am not hugely into. I think LOTRO's writers meant to make him sympathetic, for sure, and an "unlikely ally", etc, but the whole theme of the character really begged to be explored, for me. And NATURALLY I had to make an OC to romance him because that's what I do, *sigh*. 
> 
> Literally 99% of this is off-canon, but considering there's very little interaction with my boy Jajax in-game, I assume that's understandable, but the background events don't really follow canon either, although sometimes actual events will pop up. Basically this is just me exploring a budding relationship (be it friendship or something else) between a woman of Eriador and a man of Umbar in the dark days before the final battle with Sauron.
> 
> Note: Ayren's name (any similar to my user name is coincidental lol) is pronounced EYE-ren.

Ayren's grey eyes squinted in the bright sunlight outside Calembel's gate.

"Fuck."

The dark corsair in front of her merely grunted in response.

"Shit -  _ sorry _ , is what I meant to say," she mumbled, caught off guard. "I--I don't know what to say, really, that's a bastard move to pull on a fellow captain." All his men, dead in the space of a few minutes, by one back-stabbing asshole? How would  _ she  _ react to such a thing?

"I fully agree," Jajax replied, his melodious accent laced with anger, "and in addition it has put me in the position of having to ask an outsider for assistance-- one might even say, an enemy, had we not succeeded in reaching an agreement a few days ago."

"Yes, I understand your predicament," Ayren murmured, a pensive wrinkle marring her brow. She massaged her scalp through the messy tawny braids she used to keep her hair out of her way, a habit when she was thinking. "I will help you," she decided on the spot. "It was, after all, in part my fault that your men are dead."

"Technically," he pointed out wryly, "it is in  _ full _ your fault that a couple of them perished, and a few more were wounded."

"Yes, well. They attacked me." She raised her chin defiantly.

"Indeed, the more fool they, apparently. In fact, the four you wounded should count themselves lucky, as they were left to tend their hurts in an abandoned barn far outside the village, and are still alive because of it. In no shape to enact revenge," he clarified, "but alive nonetheless."

"I am glad to hear it," she replied sincerely. "Would that we could have begun our...negotiations before violence ensued." 

His mouth quirked slightly. "I must ask how you felt, the day after said ‘negotiations’?"

She pressed her fingers to her temples in remembered misery. "Absolutely abysmal, I've no idea how you drink that swill!"

He gave a crack of laughter, deep blue eyes sparkling, his dark mood lightened if but for a moment. "We do not, I assure you - Cazan is the only one of us who drinks it regularly, it is literally his only skill--" he broke off and looked away, the brightness swiftly snuffed from his face. "Was."

Ayren sighed. "I'm...sorry," she said again. "We'll make Hebil pay, I swear it."

Jajax stared at her for a moment, perplexed. 

"You seem...invested in my vengeance. Why? You barely know me, and while i am enlisting your help, I don't expect you to really…care, very much. Especially not when it's a bunch of 'murdering corsairs' who went and got themselves murdered,” he added with heavy irony.

"Hebil is an bastard and I don't like him," she explained bluntly. "I had a run-in with him before, actually, and I do not jest when I tell you he literally ran away when I attacked him." Her face screwed into a moue of distaste as she briefly described how the slippery captain and his men had tormented villagers who couldn't fight back for amusement, and then escaped when she'd come to their defense.

Jajax sneered. "It does not surprise me. When he cannot be sure of his success by either numbers or treachery, he is naught but a coward."

"I'm glad we are in agreement." She straightened from the pillar she'd been leaning against, and stuck her hand out. "Pleasure doing business with you. Again."

He looked at her hand for a moment as if it were some rare species of fish, and finally gripped it with his own roughly calloused one.

"Do you think these people will allow me to get a room at an inn here?" he asked dubiously, glancing behind her at the rather pristine town of Calembel, its Gondorian architecture gleaming white in the afternoon sun.

"Eh, maybe if I vouch for you?" Ayren considered. 

"If you would be so kind," he replied graciously, with a twinkle. "I am in most dire need of a bath."

***

A few hours later, Ayren caught Jajax in the hallway of the inn, both of them clean; Ayren rarely passed up an opportunity for a bath when she was in a civilized town, since for the past few months she’d slept in some pretty sketchy lodgings more often than not, if not out of doors entirely. 

“I propose we have a meal and you can lay out for me how you plan to do this,” she suggested. Now that she was standing a little closer to him, the scent of his soap caught her by surprise. Clean but warm and a bit spicy? Perhaps there was more to learn about these corsairs than she realized.

“That is a good idea; however…” Jajax trailed off as a man walked by and widely skirted the two of them, eyeing the corsair with fearful eyes, and then hastened along down the hall. He raised an eyebrow at Ayren.

She started to call out to the man, but decided it was pointless. She’d already explained to the innkeep, but she couldn’t go excusing a corsair’s presence to everyone who saw him. 

Especially in the common room.

“Duly noted,” she agreed briskly. “I’ll go grab some food and ale, and we can do this in my room.”

He bowed with a flourish. “Your assistance is greatly appreciated, my lady.”

She rolled her eyes and hurried downstairs to fetch a meal, and was soon settled in her room - which thankfully held a soft bed (a luxury) as well as a small table and chairs. 

“You know,” Jajax commented while she set their food on the table, “I would always rather be on the sea, but I have to say the accommodations here are nothing to sneeze at.”

She breathed a laugh as she sat down. “Yes, well, this isn’t exactly the norm, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, which is why I’ve stayed here a little longer than I should. Lucky for you!”

“Cheers to that,” he answered, holding up his mug of ale, and she responded in kind. 

They spent some time discussing their plan for the following morning. Based on what Jajax had found out, Hebil’s men would be out on some pillaging mission, leaving him with only a few guards at the house he’d holed up in for the moment. Jajax intended to burst right into the house, demanding satisfaction from Hebil, to distract him while Ayren took care of the guards outside, and then she’d follow him in. 

She waved aside his concerns about the number of guards that might be outside or in. “I can take care of three or four easily,” she asserted flippantly. “I’m more concerned about you - no offense, but I haven’t seen you fight, only your men, and they were...well.”

Jajax sighed mournfully and took a long swig of ale. “You’re right, of course - my skills are paltry at best, and my men even worse,” he admitted dolefully. 

Ayren narrowed her eyes at him. “Uh huh.”

“I’m serious! Why do you think I need the help of some...soft northern woman?”

Ayren threw a potato that bounced off his loose linen shirt. “Now I know you’re joking, otherwise you’d pay for that.”

He grinned. “In all seriousness, I am pretty damn good. But probably not as good as you. Perhaps we should bet on it?” 

Her look of suspicion returned. “I don’t believe you. But I do believe in myself. And I don’t think you can beat me, no matter how good you are, so fine - what’s your bet?” 

His smile widened, and Ayren had a moment of trepidation - not of him, but of losing her bet, and losing face. She sat up a little straighter. 

“Hmmm,” he pondered, tapping a finger against his chin. “Hard to tell what the conditions will be tomorrow...how about this: you get two minutes per outside guard. If it takes you longer than that to dispatch them, I win. But - if I have to yell for help inside, you win. Deal?”

Ayren tried to find a loophole in his words that might come back to haunt her later, but could think of none. “Fine, deal. But what are we betting? I already bought you dinner,” she added cheekily. 

He chuckled. “Fair; I already owe you that much - among other things. That being said...if you win, I’ll tell you anything you want to know about what the corsairs are up to.”

She blinked. “R-really?”

“Really. In fact, I’m about to give you some of that information right now, because you deserve to know, and I’m sure I can trust you to put it to good use.”

“Well...great! I mean, that’s--” she smiled brilliantly, and then perhaps ruined it by saying, enthusiastically, “fuck!” and raising her mug once more. 

“You seem less than interested in what happens if  _ I _ win,” he replied drily, unsuccessfully suppressing a smile. 

Her mouth full of ale, she put on an unconvincing expression of great attentiveness. 

“Very funny. If I win...we are even, and we go our separate ways; I will not ask you to do anything else.”

She couldn’t prevent her face falling just a little, even though she could tell he was watching her carefully. But why would she care? What could she say - he was funny, an entertaining companion. Well, that and maybe...he smelled nice.

“Perfect. Your terms are accepted, now give me whatever you’re willing to share.”

Ayren pulled a weathered book and pencil out of her pack, and Jajax raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to leave evidence to have me killed?” He asked politely. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I want to make sure I remember everything in case the details become important later. Don’t worry - it’s all in my own sort of...code, or something; no one else could read it.” She turned the little book toward him, and showed him a couple pages, which indeed seemed covered in a lot of letters that made no sense. 

“I am...all admiration that you can make something of this,” he admitted. 

He sat back in his chair. “Most importantly, I am fairly certain that our leaders have been subjugated by one or more of the wraith lords of Mordor.”

Ayren scribbled in the book, then looked up. “That is not unlikely, given the things I’ve seen over the past few months, but I’m surprised you’ve heard it and even more that you believe it.”

“There are whispers among the corsairs, though most keep it quiet for fear of retribution. In any case, my brother Daxamat is still in the thick of things, and the more I learn the more I want him out of it. So that’s where I’ll be headed after this.” He glanced down into his mug, and added, without looking up, “I also must relay to him the...truth, or untruth, of many things we were told.” He met her eyes. “About this place, and its people.”

She gave him a nod - understanding, for she would feel the same, that he didn’t want to talk about the doubts he was having, but appreciating that he admitted having them. 

He related a few more of his suspicions regarding the corsair forces, and she took careful note of them, before they parted late in the evening. 


	2. Chapter 2

Just after dawn, Ayren and Jajax crept closer to the farmhouse where the hated Hebil currently held sway. 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Ayren asked the corsair, for the third time, with false solicitude. 

“Woman, if you do not stop asking me--” he broke off when he turned to glare at her, and saw her ‘innocent’ expression. “You think you are very funny.”

“I am,” she confirmed, and moved past him to poke her head over the hill that lay between them and their quarry. 

“Three on this side,” she whispered. “And there’s a fourth showing himself around the other side now. Shall we do more reconnaissance or just go forth with the plan now?”

“You’re very hot-headed,” he observed. “You would have made a good corsair.”

“I do rather like the pants you all wear,” she answered absently, still scanning the farmstead for any additional enemies. 

She heard a soft snort behind her, and turned to smile at him briefly. 

“Yes, let us go ahead,” he agreed.

“And you’re  _ sure  _ they won’t kill you on sight?” she asked him skeptically.

“No, they would wait for word from him; I am relatively certain they all think I am dead.”

“The more fool they,” she breathed.

He grinned, and gripped her forearm for a moment in a comrade’s farewell. “Be careful, my feisty friend,” he admonished. 

“And you do the same,” she replied with a nod. Then he was off, and she was creeping in another direction, around the far side of the house, making sure she knew the extent of the forces nearby before beginning her end of the bargain.

She heard voices around front; the distraction was all she needed to dispatch the one guard who stood on this side of the house, nonchalantly eating an apple from this stolen farmstead.

She stepped back quickly to avoid blood spatter - she hated getting blood on freshly laundered clothes. 

She heard the front door shut, and risked a glance around the corner to see if the guards outside had accompanied Jajax in.

Lucky for him, they had not, and the two spoke in low voices outside the door. Using the one facing away from her to block sight of the other one, she aimed her small hand crossbow at him, and smiled grimly when the bolt struck him at the base of his skull, and he toppled over dead almost immediately. The second one looked down at him in confusion, and when he looked up, she was there, planting a dagger into his eye. 

She put her boot against his face and yanked her dagger out, then wiped it on his shirt before sheathing it again. “Fucking imbeciles. What kind of guards are you?”

The fourth corsair appeared around the other corner, but she’d heard him several seconds before he arrived, making no effort to mask his approach. 

Another crossbow bolt, but this one in the shoulder - she wasn’t prepared for quite how large he was, and didn’t take time to recalculate her shot. 

“Fuck.”

He was massive, towered over her by more than a foot, and though he growled and reached down to yank out the bolt, he seemed little deterred. How had she misjudged his size so badly when she’d seen him from afar?

He’d better not make her lose this bet. “I’ve got three or four minutes to kill you, so let’s get on with it,” she mumbled, and darted towards him.

As she’d suspected, his size made him slow, and his grab for her was comically mis-timed. She’d slashed him several times with her dagger by the time he landed one blow with his meaty fist.

But, to be fair, it fucking hurt. It left her head ringing, and she barely dodged what might have been a killing blow from his mace before rolling away and hopping back up, ignoring the pounding in her skull. 

A couple more minutes, and even she was tiring, dodging constantly without a break just to keep him from making contact again, but she couldn’t risk him ringing her bell or he’d put an end to her. She’d underestimated her opponent, and she hoped it didn’t cost her. She was a little less concerned about the bet, now, although not yet worried for her actual safety. But if Jajax had to come out and rescue her, she’d never live it down.

The possible humiliation of this scenario was the catalyst she needed to sharpen her reflexes, and a burst of speed propelled her just inside the brute’s defenses right after he’d taken a swing, and wasn’t quite ready to make another. 

Her dagger slid underneath his ribs, upward into his chest; he knocked her aside, and she landed heavily in the grass, but in seconds he was coughing up blood, and soon fell over.

She got up and dusted off her hands, fairly pleased with herself. Wiping her dagger clean once more, she headed for the door.

She was hoping for a grand entrance, but that only seemed appropriate if she’d held up her end of the bet really quickly, which she hadn’t - curse that huge bastard - so she decided on stealth instead, and silently slipped into the house.

It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dimly lit interior, and what she saw gave her an unexpected thrill of admiration. 

Jajax had already cut down one of the corsairs inside the house, and his scimitars flashed in the lamplight as he fought two more, his movements almost like some dark dance. The others also wielded scimitars but with nowhere near as much grace, and both were quickly bested.

One last man stood in front of Hebil, that captain’s dissipated face creased with fear.

The remaining guard looked at Jajax appraisingly, then beyond him to Ayren where she leaned unconcernedly against the front door. “I don’t get paid enough for this,” he said casually, and threw his blades down. “And in case you care,” he added over the screeches of protest emitting from behind him, ”some of us weren’t too keen on murdering your whole crew.”

Ayren walked forward, watching Jajax to see what his reaction might be. He concentrated for a moment on wiping down his blades on one unfortunate guard’s leather vest. 

“Well, my friend,” he addressed her, and gestured toward the guard and his charge. “You seem to have won our bet, if I am any judge, although I would almost call it a draw, since this swine insisted on talking for some time before I could reasonably begin my task. Still, fair is fair. What do you think we should do with this one?”

She pondered for a moment. He  _ was  _ one of Hebil’s men, but...she felt like killing him while he’d thrown down his weapons was a little beyond what she could condone. “Seems ungentlemanly to kill the bastard while he’s defenseless,” she replied, contemplative. “Although, Hebil here knows a bit about that, and if this one is anything like…”

“You’re...a northerner? What are you doing here, helping him?” the guard asked incredulously. 

She shrugged. “I don't like greedy, smarmy assholes, no matter where they’re from, and this guy got on my bad side already,” she explained, pointing at Hebil, who was muttering under his breath, watching their exchange with feverish eyes. 

The guard grunted. “It’s only chance that I got on a boat with this bastard, whether you believe it or not.”

“You’re supposed to  _ defend  _ me, not argue with my methods, for the last time!” Hebil practically screeched, unwittingly verifying his guard’s veracity. The guard raised an eyebrow, and Jajax and Ayren shared a look. 

“I might have use for you,” Jajax informed him. “If you’re interested, wait outside and I’ll talk to you when we’re done here.”

The guard squinted. “Huh. Alright.” And he moved past them, and out the door. 

“Come back here, you sorry son of a whore!” But that individual was gone, and Hebil was forced to turn his attention back to his two remaining guests. 

“What, are you just going to kill me, now? I’m defenseless too, you know!”

Ayren pinched the bridge of her nose, and remained silent. 

“Yes, actually,” Jajax answered, and promptly ran him through. 

*******

Outside, Jajax talked for a few moments with Hebil’s erstwhile guard, a corsair named Orzan, and ended up sending him to the few men he had left, who were nursing the wounds Ayren had given them, a little further south. 

After taking stock of the bodies outside the house, Orzan glanced at Ayren, and swallowed. She merely smiled widely at him, at which point he immediately took off for his destination.

“You sure you can trust him with your fellows?” she asked Jajax when the other man was out of earshot.

“He’s not bad. Hated Hebil - who wouldn’t - and shook my hand for doing away with him. And there are four of my boys, they might be hurt but they can defend themselves well enough, if it comes to that.”

She nodded. “Well, I suppose I will agree to a draw on our bet - considering I saw you at work a minute ago, I have no doubts about your skill level.”

“Hmmm. The same can be said of you,” he replied, gesturing at the corpses she’d left behind, his voice full of admiration. “And if that’s the case, perhaps we should agree upon some new terms?”

“I knew I’d regret trusting a corsair,” she lamented.

His crack of laughter echoed around the silent farmstead. He stepped a bit closer to her, and she watched him with exaggerated suspicion. 

“I will still tell you what you want to know. But...perhaps you might be of a mind to assist me with my other problem?”

Again the smell of him carried on the slight breeze, and she wondered how he managed to retain that lovely scent even after fighting a bunch of people. “W-which one is that?” she stammered, and then cleared her throat almost angrily. What a child she was being. 

Unfortunately Jajax seemed to notice her slip, and leaned even closer; she knew what he was doing before he did it, and couldn’t quite make herself stop him.

But his lips only lingered on hers for a second,.

As soon as he pulled away, she slapped him. 

He winced, and put a hand to his cheek. “I deserved that.”

“If you do anything like that without asking me again, our partnership is at an end,” she hissed, hating that she’d let it happen, and hating even more how much she was overreacting. But she was content, for the moment, to redirect that anger to him.

“You’re right. I apologize. I can only claim I got carried away due to your skill with a blade, my friend,” he explained, his hands held up, and she was slightly mollified by his apparent sincerity.

“Fine. So--” suddenly she realized what other problem he’d been referring to. “You mean your brother?”

He cleared his throat in turn. “Yes, my brother. I must ensure he is unharmed, and also that he knows the full extent of what’s going on here. If he does not already, it may be difficult to get him to leave, but I will have to cross that bridge when I get there, as they say.”

“Very well. I have assisted the locals as best I might here, and it seems south of here is most likely my next destination. Does that align with your direction?”

He regarded her strangely, but only nodded. “I must attend to the rest of my men - let the living ones know where I’ve gone, and send the rest of the lost out to sea.”

She winced, almost having forgotten the dark deed that had led them to join forces. “Of course. Do you need assistance?”

He hesitated, but in the end shook his head. “I appreciate your offer, but...I think I should go alone. I will catch up with you at the next village; I’m sure they will have many favors to ask of you.”

“Most likely. Actually, I have a friend who is in this vicinity, or was a short time ago, and she seems to take care of all the heroic business in these towns, leaving me with the menial jobs!” She gave a crooked smile to take the sting out of her words. “I jest - she is much more suited to heroics than I am, and I want no part of it. However, when this is all over I will require her to buy me a drink for every time I’ve heard her name in my travels.”

Jajax grinned. “It is good to think of such a time, is it not? May that be the fate that awaits us - sharing a drink with our friends and kin, glory having been attained and evil having been vanquished.” He tilted his head. “Actually, perhaps I should not wish for such things, considering I am most likely included when evil is mentioned…” He said it playfully, but Ayren’s brow lowered.

“No. You’re not one of them - I know you’re of Umbar, but...most of the corsairs that came here are murderers and thieves without a lick of empathy.  _ You  _ have honor.”

He was silent for a moment, an odd look on his face. “I appreciate you saying so. Having seen the state of things here...I am inclined to agree that the majority of my people, at least the ones who came on this mission, are indeed the worst of our kind.” 

He reached out and clasped her forearm again, a gesture she was coming to understand meant a little more than a handshake, and they took their leave; she to head back to the inn for her things and then immediately to begin the journey south, and he to continue the grim task of laying his crew to rest.


	3. Chapter 3

It took her very little time to assist the people of Tadrent, the next village along the road; they asked her to put a stop to the invaders who were disrupting the supplies the Gondorians were sending back east, and she made short work of that shoddy outfit. She was lucky, she mused afterward, that most of the invading forces were badly organized as well as lazy. It was as if they thought they could sail across the bay and have grapes and wine fed to them, and it gave her much satisfaction to prove this misconception violently wrong.

She debated staying there until Jajax showed up, but decided against it. She didn't want to seem like she was waiting around for him; she had better things to do, and probably a lot more of those things in the larger city of Dol Amroth. 

She left word with Bruidis, the woman in charge there, to be on the lookout for her corsair friend, and to send him along if he came by; she was rewarded with a very strange look, but Bruidis agreed, citing Ayren's assistance as reason enough to follow those instructions.

Ayren had to stop just inside the gates of Dol Amroth to take it all in. She'd grown up in Bree, which she'd thought a pretty big town all her life, although after some of the places she'd traveled to in the past year or two she was beginning to get a bit of perspective. But Dol Amroth was…

A real  _ city _ . Tall, magnificent buildings. Distinct districts. Shining blue gauze blowing in the breeze--what happened when it rained? Did all these pretty ribbons look like wet cat? The inhabitants of this fine town, too, were...perhaps a bit too fancy for Ayren's liking.

To be fair, none of them looked askance at her; it was likely that strangers were less of an oddity here now than they had been previously.

Before she could even get a room in the imposing inn - even more opulent than the one at Calembel; Jajax was sure to be delighted - she had to hear a story about another "stranger" who’d passed through not two weeks prior, who of course turned out to be the friend Ayren had mentioned to Jajax. She had apparently done some service to the lady of the city, Lothiriel, daughter of the Prince, who was away to the east. Ayren listened politely to the innkeeper's gossip and expressed the proper amount of awe and admiration for the unassuming but terribly brave Dùnadan woman who'd confronted a monstrous corsair captain upon his ship, no less.

_ Cal _ , she thought with a smile as she headed up to her assigned room, _ I hope one day you get to meet this corsair, you won't know what to make of him… _

When she opened the door, she let out a low whistle. The room wasn't large, but it looked directly over the bay; the window - a real glass window, what decadence! - was thrown open to the evening breeze, and the call of gulls echoed over waters now pink with the reflection of the sunset.

Ayren might not care much for fancy things, but damn, that was some view. As she walked closer, she could see down into the harbour - a corsair ship hovered menacingly outside it, pointed masts darkening the entrance to the wharf. But what she’d heard in her few minutes in the common room told her that the corsair presence in Dol Amroth had been much more powerful up until very recently. It was certainly something she’d like to discuss with Jajax.

Assuming he showed up, as he’d said he would - not that she cared either way. 

Rarely tending toward introspection, Ayren shrugged and turned away from the spectacular harbour view to figure out where the baths were in this inn.

Only to discover...she had her own. Private. Bath.

What...lavish abandon! What wanton extravagance!

She could get used to this place.

*******

Two hours later, her fingertips faintly puckered from having remained in the water too long, she made her way downstairs to procure food. She shivered slightly at the evening wind that carried through the windows which were open, even here. Her hair was still wet, and she’d sat in the water until it was quite cold. The lethargy that had overtaken her while soaking had nearly prevented her from re-braiding her hair; had even almost prevented her from coming downstairs to eat. Only the progressively declining temperature of the water had caused hunger to win over her lassitude. 

She looked around for a seat, and a movement off to her left, in the corner of the room near the fireplace, caught her eye.

Her heart gave a little thump as she turned and saw who it was who’d stood up, and was gesturing grandly at the other chair at his table. 

Jajax, too, had clearly had another bath, but beyond that...he’d done something different to his light brown hair, for one. It had been shaved on the sides when she met him, the top pulled back into a pony’s tail. But now he’d meticulously braided it, and the long part was caught up in a sort of bun in the back. 

More importantly, he’d gotten new clothes. Or at least, a new shirt; the dark rust-colored linen pants and leather boots were the same, but now a rather more Gondorian-looking white shirt was tucked into the front of his pants, and…

Oh dear. He was...considerably more sturdily built than most local men, wasn’t he? 

She swallowed as she slowly approached him, struggling to take her eyes off his arms, which strained rudely against the fine fabric of his shirt. 

How...how positively  _ uncouth _ …

She forced herself to raise her gaze to his face, and found him grinning in a most disrespectful manner. 

“I figured I should be a bit more stealthy and try to blend in,” he explained as they both sat down. “What do you think? Rather suits me, I’d say.”

“You look amazing,” -  _ fuck! _ \- “--ly Gondorian,” she saved herself, proud of her quick thinking. 

His mouth quirked into a lopsided smile. “Well, normally I would take that as an insult, but in this circumstance I will accept it."

Ayren breathed a sigh of relief as she sat down; she had to be more careful or he might get ideas. She refused to contemplate what those ideas were, exactly, and whether they were, in fact, accurate.

“Have you any news since last we spoke?” she asked, and waved the serving girl over to ask for drinks and food. 

“Excuse me, madam,” Jajax objected, “but I believe it is my turn to provide dinner, if you please.”

“Well by all means, be my guest! I’ll have one of everything,” she said promptly as the girl approached.

Jajax opened his mouth to protest, but just sighed, defeated, instead. 

“If you mean drinks, ma’am, w-we’ve only two at the moment anyway, due to the invaders messing with our supply lines and such, sorry!” She gave a little curtsy of apology, and Ayren waved away her concerns.

“Whatever you have is fine, darling, I was only having a laugh at my friend’s expense.”

“Oh!” and she glanced surreptitiously at Jajax. 

Ayren’s nostrils flared for a brief moment, before the girl turned back to her. 

“Welcome to our lovely city, then, ma’am,” the girl said breathily, and immediately Ayren realized that the glance was for her benefit, not her companion’s. 

She grinned. “What’s your name, darling?”

“Dalawen,” the girl practically whispered. 

“Ah. Dalawen, what a pretty name! My...business partner and I thank you.”

“Oh! Youre--you’re too kind,” the girl stammered, the full force of Ayren’s smile having disrupted her faculties for a moment. “Well, I’ll just...be getting your food then…”

“Going to have my work cut out for me, I see,” Jajax mumbled, and when Ayren glanced at him quizzically, he was wearing an expression of exaggerated frustration. 

“What does that mean?” She squinted at him. Was he mad that he’d have to compete with her for young ladies’ attention? Well, he’d better get used to it - she wasn’t going to curtail her flirting for his sake, that was certain!

“Nothing. I did find out some things, and it seems some of our work of weakening the corsairs has been done for us."

Successfully distracted from Jajax's cryptic comment, Ayren rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, let me guess, you too are here to sing Cal's praises?"

"Is this the friend you spoke of? The Ranger woman?"

Ayren merely nodded with a much put-upon expression.

"Well, I for one would like to buy her an ale - but there is plenty left for us to do, if you are still interested in doing it. Unless, of course," he added politely, "you will be too busy breaking all the hearts in Dol Amroth to waste your time on a lowlife such as myself?"

She pretended to ponder this. "As tempted as I am, no - a deal is a deal."

"You are most generous."

"I know."

By that time Dalawen had returned with their food, and they were occupied for some time with eating.

Ayren had a question for her companion, but somehow felt it was at once too intrusive but also too late for her to ask it. But she had to, if they were friends at all.

She stared down into her mug of ale. "Jajax, are you...are you alright?"

She looked up at him then, to find him mirroring her previous activity. As if the reflection of liquid held any answer.

She didn't press him while he took his time to respond. He was treating her question with the seriousness with which it had been offered.

"Yes," he said finally. "I think…"

He sighed and looked up and around at the increasingly loud occupants of the common room, as if remembering where he was.

"Would you mind if we continue this conversation in one of our rooms? Usually I have no problem conversing amidst raucous drunks but…" 

Ayren immediately stood up, and Jajax was counting out coins onto the table when Dalawen returned with the bottle of mead they'd just ordered.

"Enjoy your evenin' then, sir, ma'am," she said with a little bob and a brief glance in Ayren's direction.

"Thank you, and we'll see you again soon, darling, I'm sure," Ayren nearly whispered to her, and winked outrageously, before following Jajax upstairs, flagons in hand.

******* **  
  
**

"You will make that poor girl cry when you leave," Jajax commented as Ayren opened the door to her room. 

"Don't be silly, it's just flirting." She glanced up at him as he passed her. "Are you jealous?"

"Do not speak nonsense, my friend," he replied with amusement in his voice. She made a rude face at his back. It was just a question, he didn't have to insult her.

"You have a view of the sea??" He exclaimed incredulously as he stopped short upon catching sight of the window.

"You don't?"

"Did you flirt with the innkeep too? Perhaps I should have tried that…"

Her nostrils flared for a second, but instead of taking his bait, she merely replied, "You probably should get some practice first."

His crack of laughter filled the space, and she pursed her lips to hide her smile.

The table was just next to the window, luckily for him, since his eyes seemed fixed on the harbour. It was dark now of course, but as she peeked past him she could see there were lanterns lit at regular intervals everywhere, illuminating the docks and glittering warmly on the waves. 

Ayren pulled the extra blanket (extra linens! Whatever would they provide next?) off the bed and draped it over her shoulders; she wasn't yet used to the sea breeze. She lit the lantern that sat in the table. The moonlight wasn't much to see by.

She poured them both a generous portion of mead from the bottle Jax had carried up, and only then did Ayren notice a second bottle sitting next to the first. “Jax,” she said carefully, “where did you get a second bottle?”

“Are you suggesting I did not pay for this?” he replied, aghast. 

She raised an eyebrow.

“In this one instance, in fact, you are incorrect,” he placated. “I gave your sweetheart an extra coin for the extra bottle, which I spied someone leave unopened on another table.” He seemed inordinately proud of himself for having done the honest thing, and she couldn’t help but smile. 

“I apologize for ever doubting you! You’re truly an upstanding citizen. The new shirt has changed you!”

He raised his glass to her, and she reciprocated. Then he turned his attention back to the window, his momentary levity slipping away. She sipped her mead while waiting for him to pick up where he'd left off.

"I think that one of the worst things is," he began abruptly, "knowing that you are alone...not just without your crew, but alone in your ideas."

He never took his dark eyes off the wharf as he spoke. 

"Most of my men were with me because they were...like-minded, you might say. We came here to have a good time, for adventure and excitement. Not to...pillage farmers' homes and murder villagers." The bitterness in his voice surprised her; she'd known he was different from much of his kin, but hadn't realized how their destructive behaviors galled him.

"It's not even as if they just...don't care about these people. That I can understand; if you knew the tales we've been told about your lot…" He glanced across at her, for a second, then away again. "But instead many of them delight in tormenting everyone they come across. It's worse if someone tries to stand up for themselves."

He took a long drink of mead, grunted in appreciation, and went on. "My people, contrary to what you have seen, are not evil. We are not raised to...to trod on those who have already been ground into the dirt. To take advantage of the weak or poor. In fact, I would say the opposite; there is far more glory to be had in besting a worthy opponent, than in kicking a starving dog."

He looked at her again, and this time seemed to focus on her. "I am sorry. I did not mean to give you a philosophical analysis of Umbarans--"

"Please continue," Ayren cut him off, waving away his apology. "We don't know anything about your people, except we probably get a lot of false stories too, and I for one would love to know the truth."

"To be fair, those stories have probably been borne out by my kin who have come to this land," he pointed out.

"True. But not all Umbarans are 'invaders'," she said softly. "Some of them are just men."

He stared at her for a long moment. Then took a deep breath.

"I miss many things about my home. I miss my sisters and their constant teasing. I miss the food - you people know nothing about spices!" Ayren gave an apologetic shrug. She'd dined with Dwarves more than once and had to admit they knew a sight more than any Man whose cooking she'd eaten. 

"I miss the brutal heat of the sun, then jumping into the water to escape it. I miss the colors, Ayren, the colors! You people are all blue and grey and brown, where is the red? Where is the purple? It's as if you do not see the spectrum that we do!"

An uncomfortable tightness had been building in Ayren's stomach as he spoke about his homeland. It must be unpardonably beautiful, and harsh. He clearly yearned for it…

"How can you bear to be away?" she murmured, now staring out the window, herself, unable to look at him. "If you love it so…"

"There is much beauty here as well," he answered. "There are trees of... unimaginable size. There are flowers I've never seen, and the scent is intoxicating. There are beautiful horses that look completely different to ours. And I do love the sea here...I might say as much as I love it at home. It is...soft and cool, but brutal."

She didn't know quite what that meant, but he certainly had a way with words. But how long would these strange beauties, this novelty, entertain him, before he was compelled to return home?

When he didn't speak for a minute, she asked him another question as she refilled their flagons.

"Tell me about your men."

He tilted his head. "You needn't pretend an interest just to make me feel better."

"It's not  _ pretending  _ an interest to ask someone you--are friends with, to share something about someone they've lost."

“Why must--ah! Never mind.” He rubbed his eyes. “Thank you,” he said in a more neutral tone. “Very well, I will tell you.”

He spent the next couple hours telling her about the men that Hebil had murdered. 

Cazan, the man Ayren had beaten - barely - at a drinking contest. Balamar, the closest Jajax had to a first mate, and without whose supervision Jajax worried he’d get a little out of hand. Artenur, the cook, who knitted them all scarves on the journey north, under the misconception that they were sailing to the ice bays of Forochel. And almost a dozen others. 

Ayren encouraged him to tell the best stories he could remember about them all - things he loved, things he hated, things that made him laugh. He drank, and she poured. He was right; she was feigning interest, at first, to get him to open up a little about his loss. But soon she found herself tearing up along with him at the touching moments he relayed, and at other times laughing until her sides hurt. 

The lives of Jajax’s friends and constant companions for months - some of them years - abruptly snuffed out because a rival captain wanted to prove something. Ayren had known loss, but nothing like that. Nothing that brutal, with that broad of a stroke. Even though Hebil was dead, and Jajax had gotten his revenge, she found herself wishing the man was alive so she could kill him again. 

It must have been past midnight when the second bottle ran out, and Jajax set down his flagon with finality. 

“On that note, my friend, I think it is time I take my leave of you,” he announced, and prepared to stand. 

“Are you...sure you can make it back to your room?” she said doubtfully, unable to believe he’d imbibed so much and still seemed in full possession of his faculties. 

“Ha! A paltry fellow you must think me, to be rendered incapable of walking after a mere bottle of mead!”

“Two bottles, or thereabouts,” she corrected with a twinkle. 

“Two, you say? Hmm.” He braced himself on the table and stood. 

“You see, I am perfectly fine. But I thank you for your concern.”

She got up as well as he rounded the table. 

“And…” he continued, and seemed about to reach for her hand…

She was not to find out what he’d been about to say, for at that moment he was rendered quite incapable indeed, as he slumped forward, unconscious, and Ayren was barely able to break his fall to prevent him landing on his face in her floor.

She would never,  _ ever  _ let him live this down, and she had to wipe a tear from her eye at the sheer joy brought on by the thought of it. 

However, after she was done laughing at him, she sighed, and set about making a little pallet out of extra blankets, on the floor. She couldn’t very well heave him into the bed - he was nearly twice her weight - and passing out drunk didn’t entitle one to sleep in the bed, in any case. They were both just lucky these rooms were fairly large, and there was more than space enough for a large man in the floor without her tripping over him.

She managed, with much grumbling, to roll him onto the folded blankets, and wedge a pillow under his head, before going to bed herself, a small smile on her face as she imagined how humiliated he’d be when he woke up and realized where he was. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter but I figure more frequent updates are more desirable than longer ones? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Ayren was to be denied the pleasure of seeing a realization of his surroundings come upon Jajax when he awoke, much less bring that realization to him herself; he was gone when she opened her eyes in the morning, the blankets neatly folded at the foot of her bed. 

_ Spoil sport. _

She had some vague recollection of a calloused palm on her cheek in the night, but it was already fading; must have been a dream. She’d warned him, after all, not to get too familiar with her again.

He had, however, closed the window against the night’s chill, which she had to admit she appreciated, and had forgotten to do herself. The only reason she’d left it open while they were talking was because Jax kept glancing out at the water.

She realized that despite all they’d spoken of the night before, they hadn’t actually made any plans regarding what their next move would be. Which meant she’d just have to go ahead and wake him up; he was no doubt nursing a terrible headache, but oh well! It couldn’t be helped.

Her grin was perhaps a trifle evil. 

She got her boots on, made sure all her daggers and knives were in their proper place, and set out to find out to roust her friend from his slumber.

Alas, the promise of enjoyment was again no more than fleeting. Just as she was about to throw open the door, a knock sounded. She knew it was him before she even opened it.

And when she did, she discovered him to be entirely too chipper to have been terribly drunk the night before. 

“Ah, my friend! I was hoping you were awake. We have a long journey ahead of us.” He swept past her into the room, one of his bags slung over his shoulder, and a large mug of something in his hand. 

She merely sighed with resignation, and shut the door. 

“Oh?”

“Yes - we’ve naught to do here, sad though I may be to leave these beds behind.” 

“You barely even slept in yours,” Ayren remarked.

Jajax ignored her. “My brother seems to be further east of here, between the towns of Linhir and Pelargir, have you heard of it?”

“I have, I am merely shocked - your loyalty to your brother must be great indeed,” she answered with great admiration. 

“It is, but wh--”

“For you to give up such  _ luxury _ ,” she went on in fulsome tones, “such  _ decadence  _ as the floor of someone else’s room in the Captain’s Wake Inn! Surely your brother would never expect--”

“Will you be silent, woman!” he finally cut her off, in outrage that she wasn’t sure for a moment was feigned or real. He set down his things with a thud, and strode up to her.

She stood her ground, but she had to admit she worried briefly if she’d pushed him a little too far. 

“The next time we drink together,” he began angrily, “I’ll see to it that you’re the one that gets soussed, and then!” He put his hands on either side of her face, and she blinked at him with wide eyes - not afraid, but surprised, at least.

“And then! I will tuck you into bed like the sweet and innocent babe that you are, and my debt shall be repaid,” he finished with a laugh, then kissed her forehead soundly, and let her go. 

Then he bowed. “Again, madam, I am at your service, it seems the favors continue to stack up in your favor.”

She exhaled on a rather bewildered laugh. “Well, now that I’ve gotten to tease you about it a little, think nothing more of it.”

He drew close again. “That was not what I meant, my dear friend,” he explained, and his voice had become much more serious. “What you did for me last night was good for my heart, and I thank you from the bottom of it.”

Her own seemed to hear this, and thudded once, twice, before subsiding. “I...was happy to help. Now - are you serious, that we must leave?” She turned to stare at the bath, which was partially obscured by a screen. “Are you... _ absolutely _ certain?”

“I share your regret, my darling, but unfortunately I worry that any further delay could endanger my brother.”

She sighed. At least he sounded sincerely apologetic. “Of course, you’re right. Well then - let’s be off!” 

#  *******

It was a full day’s travel to Linhir, maybe more depending on what they encountered on the road. It had been some time since Ayren had a traveling partner, and at first she worried that Jax would feel the need to make conversation during the whole trip. But he seemed content to maintain a companionable silence unless she had a question, or they passed something worth remarking upon. 

She did ask him a bit more about his culture and his people, and he hers; as they’d suspected, both of them labored under many misconceptions about the other, and it would take time to get past them. But Ayren hoped that more men like Jajax had come over in the “invasion”, that those from Gondor may learn about a culture they’d long been taught to revile. 

As they followed the road through the hills - estimating another several hours until they reached Linhir, where they planned to stop for the night - they noticed the sky growing more overcast. 

“These clouds do not inspire confidence in me,” Jajax mumbled, his eyes fixed upward. 

“It does not feel natural, does it? Even just past Calembel the sun was bright, and suddenly there is a...darkness, even in the air…”

He grunted his agreement, and they spurred their horses a little faster. 

By the time they got to the town of Ethring, as told to them by the guard posted near the bridge into town, the darkness was oppressive. One might believe it was past twilight, but in truth it was mid-afternoon. 

They approached the little tavern to let their horses have a rest, and see if they could get any information. A woman stood just outside conversing with a guard, and seemed to have a bit of influence in the town; once they’d turned their horses over to a stablehand they made themselves known to her. 

“It was like this when we awoke,” Laedrind explained to them. “Some foul sorcery, we are sure, but we know not from whence it came. From the east, is all I can tell you.”

Jajax and Ayren shared a look. It seemed they’d have to delve further into it if they wanted to find his brother.

“And to add to it, there have been more and more shades in the forest as the day goes on,” she continued, “and orcs besides. You look like two capable folk, despite your strange pants,” she said with a nod towards Jajax’s unconventional attire; Ayren barely quieted a snort. “If you’ve any way of doing something about either of those things, I would be much obliged.”

Jajax sighed, but Ayren noticed a strange look on his face, one she’d have to ask him about in a moment. “We do not have much time to spend here, but perhaps on the way out we could do what we can about your orc problem,” he allowed, and Laedrind gave a nod. 

They shuffled into the inn, procured some ale, and sank wearily onto a bench near a window. 

“What troubles you, other than--” Ayren gestured vaguely upward. 

He pursed his lips for a moment, and she saw that expression again - consternation, almost?

“In Umbar, we do not have...shades,” he explained. “It is an...unnatural and cursed state of being. I do not wish to interact with them if we can avoid it.”

She blinked. “You’re...afraid.”

His brow lowered. “You needn’t be so--”

“Hush, I am not being anything. I’m not judging you, Jax, I’m just surprised,” she clarified quietly. “Trust me, I’m scared of plenty. If we run into any spiders, crawlers, evil birds - I fucking hate evil birds...bug-like things; if anyone so much as breathes a word about a bug-like creature you will see the back of me.”

He cracked a smile. “Duly noted.”

“Oh, avancs! Those are the worst,” she added, and shuddered. “Disgusting, vile swamp-lizards. Anyway! The point is, we’ll skirt the shades - I won’t argue a bit.”

“You are a treasure, my friend.”

“Finally, someone who appreciates me.”

“In regards to our...quest, if you will, I can only hope that my brother is not in any way entangled in whatever is darkening the sky. If our leaders can somehow command such sorcery...our task may be worlds more difficult than I imagined.”

Ayren sighed. “I hope so as well, but my bet is on your leaders not having command of much at all. I’ve never been within a hundred leagues of Mordor, but this smacks of that sort of evil.” He nodded. “And, Jax…” she trailed off, and took a moment to finish the last of her ale.

He merely waited, eyebrows raised. 

“If we can get your brother in the clear, I...I’m of no mind to keep heading east, not until--”

“You do not wish to approach the source of all this evil.”

She shook her head, not looking at him. “I told you once - Cal is far better suited to great deeds than I am. I’m not saying I don’t have my uses, and I’ve helped some people, it’s true. But...I also know my limits. If...if whatever she and her companions and friends are doing to combat this doesn’t work...I…”

Jajax put a hand over hers where she now clasped them tightly on the table. 

“Ayren. Be calm - we will not go that way. And from what I have heard, and what you have told me about this Calaear and her compatriots, it seems they are bound to succeed. Do not worry.”

“I just wonder...if they don’t...will there be any place to go? To get away from...Him?” She shook her head before Jax could answer, and gave him a strained smile. “Let us not concern ourselves with that now. We should move on, if we wish to make it to Linhir by nightfall.” 

She glanced out the window. “If, that is, we can even tell when nightfall arrives.”


	5. Chapter 5

“It’s only a scratch, stop fussing!” Ayren grumbled, pulling away from Jajax’s reach as they rode up to the gates of Linhir. 

“Woman, your stubbornness will be the death of you, why will you not--”

“Because I don’t need you coddling me,” she practically growled, and then lowered her voice as they came within earshot of the guards. “Try to let me speak, I don’t want their suspicions aroused due to your accent,” she whispered. 

Jajax sighed in frustration but held his tongue, and she stated her business to the man at the gate.

“You may enter, but mind yourselves - don’t make any trouble, we’ve enough of that around here as it is,” the man said darkly. “And if you're looking for room at one of the inns, you likely won’t find it. There’s been too much fighting near the city and the inns are all full of refugees and wounded.”

“We saw as much on the way in,” Ayren assured him. “We have made ourselves useful where we may, but we will have to find some sort of lodging for the night as we’ve been traveling from Dol Amroth all day. Have you any suggestions?”

“There used to be many taverns and inns to choose from, but now criminals seem to have taken up in the lower part of the city, across the river,” the guard informed her with a sneer. “Moving in while our soldiers are mostly occupied, of course, the cowards. So unfortunately I’ve naught to tell you.”

“Understood. Can you tell us where to find Captain Erchar? We were asked to deliver a message from one of his scouts west of here, after we assisted him with killing some half-trolls. Wretched creatures,” she uttered with revulsion. 

“If you tangled with half-trolls it’s not wonder you’re injured,” he replied with a faint note of admiration, and Ayren winced; she’d hoped the blood wasn’t that noticeable. “You can probably find him a short way north of the gate, directing the forces that hold the other entrances of the town.”

She thanked him and motioned Jax to follow. 

“I must say I rather wish we’d just stayed in Dol Amroth,” he muttered as they slowly made their way through a town in disarray. Scared-looking citizens bustled this way and that, often with baskets full of what looked to be provisions, or sometimes healing supplies. Many of the lanterns went unlit, and the heavy darkness of the day had grown even thicker at night, throwing deep shadows into every corner. Soldiers hurried to their posts, and shouting could be heard at a distance, in the eastern part of the town - what the guard had referred to as “Lower Linhir”. 

“Just think of the  _ baths _ , Jax,” she answered mournfully. “But first thing tomorrow we’ll find your brother, and with any luck we can get him to go back with us!”

“Capital plan, I am fully behind it.”

“In all seriousness, I’m less concerned with luxury at the moment and more with safety. Not that either of us has trouble defending ourselves, but this place is…”

“Yes. It is a shambles; I did not realize that the Heirs would have wreaked this much havoc here. Though I do not specifically wish to enter Pelargir I am curious to see what is happening there...”

“Let us find this Captain Erchar and deliver our message, and perhaps he will have some ideas on where we should sleep. I’ve no objection to pitching a tent, as it were, but I’m not about to sleep outside these walls if I can help it.”

“Indeed.”

They located Erchar, along with his brother; the scout had said the enemy forces west of the city seemed to be pulling back; he’d heard something momentous was occurring in Pelargir, and the enemy soldiers were being routed there for reinforcements. They relayed this to Erchar, who immediately tried to send them on a reconnaissance mission to find one of his scouts that he’d sent in the opposite direction, toward the city in question.

“With all due respect, sir, we are not soldiers, and we did not come here to become such. We are merely delivering a message and hoping to find lodging or at least a safe place to lay our heads for the night.”

Erchar sighed. “Of course. I can’t expect every stranger I meet to assist us with everything that needs doing.”

Ayren pinched the bridge of her nose. “Let me guess - Calaear was here, not a week past?”

“A few days, only,” he replied with surprised. “Do you know her? A most admirable Dunadan woman, I have never met someone so--”

“Yes, I know her, thank you, I’m sure I’ll see her again soon. Now, could you please recommend sleeping arrangements?” She pasted a polite smile on her face, beginning to feel a little the worse for wear due to her injury. Maybe Jax had been right and it was worse than she thought. “If possible we try to aid you on the morrow.”

“Of course, thank you for the message.” He pointed them eastward down a large thoroughfare, to a woman who had temporarily set her home up as additional lodgings in the town. “Just tell Glenarwen I sent you, she’ll be sure to give you safe haven, even if it’s cramped.”

Glenarwen was less than pleased with Erchar for sending her more people, but quickly ushered them inside the house, which was fairly large but seemed to house 10-12 others in various rooms and corners. “Just...don’t tell anyone where you slept, if you please. I’ve only got one space left, and I’d apologize for putting you on a pallet of blankets in the storeroom if I didn’t know you’ve got no other place.”

Suddenly her eyes fixated on Ayren’s midsection, which she was unconsciously holding her hand to.

“My  _ dear  _ \- you’ve been injured! Come, come, we must do something about this--”

“That is what I’ve been trying to tell her,” Jajax grumbled.

“It’s really not that bad,” Ayren protested, but followed the woman through the front room, where several people sat at a large dining table, not really paying attention to the new arrivals. 

“You should not let her walk around like that, sir, she could have done some real damage!” Glenarwen scolded as she grabbed some things off a shelf. 

“I assure you, it is beyond me to prevent her doing anything she wishes,” he lamented.

Glenarwen huffed a laugh, and permitted a small smile in Jax’s direction. She led them into a small room - barely big enough for the three of them - with some shelves around the sides. Blankets were laid across the floor on the far end, and a chair sat to one side.

“You needn’t act as if I’ve been foolhardy,” Ayren objected, the pain making her more grumpy than usual. “What was I supposed to do, tell some half-trolls to wait a moment while I tend to the scratch they gave me?”

“You could have heeded me and stopped at any time when we were relatively safe afterward, and let me see to it,” he shot back.

“Well what were you going to do on the road! I’m telling you it’s just bleeding a lot, I’ll be fine--”

“If you would stop being so stubborn and listen for a moment--”

“I beg your pardon,” Glenarwen interjected, her voice shaking ever so slightly with amusement, “but I’ve got an injured soldier to tend to in the other room, so if you’ll just take these supplies, I’m sure you can sort this out on your own.” 

Ayren held her hands out, but Glenarwen ignored her and gave the bandages and a little jar of something to Jajax. “You’ll know better once you see it, but I suspect you should at least try to keep her from riding tomorrow. Good luck.”

“Hey--” Ayren began.

“ _ Thank you _ , Madame Glenarwen,” Jajax cut her off, “we are very much in your debt, and we will be out of your way tomorrow. Surely, Ayren, you would like to thank our benefactor?”

Ayren scowled at him. “Of course! Thank you, your help is much appreciated,” she mumbled. 

Glenarwen just smiled, and then she was gone. 

“You needn’t look at me like that,” Ayren grumbled as she dropped her things in the corner of the little room, barely having looked around yet. A lit lantern sat on one of the shelves, illuminating the space strangely.

“Well, pardon me for feeling a bit vindicated,” he retorted, managing to keep most of the smugness out of his voice.

“Oh, fine! It...it does hurt a little.” This admission served to make her scowl even more.

“We’ll have to get your leathers off you,” he said absently, “and I’m afraid your shirt might be ruined…”

She sighed, and began divesting herself of the vest she wore, which was made of interlocking leather scales. “I might have to get new armor, since this one clearly has a weak spot,” she fussed halfheartedly.

“I am not sure that failing to stop a sword the size of a tree should be termed a weak spot,” Jajax answered drily, and knelt in front of her where she sat now in the little chair. 

His humor evaporated when he pulled up her shirt.

“This...is more than a scratch, my girl,” he announced grimly, and met her eyes. 

She looked away. He didn’t know her reasons for downplaying it, and he didn’t need to know. And she didn’t need to be reminded. 

“Can you just put something on it so we can go to sleep?” Her voice came out a little shakier than she’d intended, and she pursed her lips.

He just sighed, and didn’t press her, thank goodness, instead setting about cleaning her wound. 

There was a lot of blood on the cloth, and Ayren swallowed...if she’d caused herself to be put out of commission for some time because of this, she would be  _ extremely  _ displeased.

But he put aside whatever linament the good woman Glenarwen had provided him with, and took something out of his pack instead. 

“Is...is that a  _ spice  _ bottle?” she asked incredulously. 

“Where I come from, most of the plants and herbs are multifunctional,” he said smugly. He sprinkled some deep orange-looking leaves into his palm and replaced the top on the bottle. 

“You...might want to bite down on something though.”

“ _ What _ ?!”

“You know, you’re right - I shouldn’t assume you can handle it, you’re only a soft Gondorian woman, after all--”

“I will literally stab you.”

He snorted, and she fancied his grin as he approached her midsection leaned a little too much toward mischievous delight than she preferred, since she was currently at his mercy.

But though it stung when he put it on, she released the breath she’d been holding. “Very funny, Jax.”

“Well, give it a moment.”

“It’s been a f--OW!” Her eyes widened as the “spice” kicked in, and she let out a low whistle. Oddly enough, it wasn’t so much painful as...strange. It did burn like blazes, but also tingled, and the longer she sat there, taking deep breaths, it began to ache. 

But after a minute or so, all the odd sensations passed.

“Well. That was an experience. I would say I hope I get to use it on you at some point but I’m sure you’re used to it, and besides I don’t actually want you to get stabbed.”

“Ha! That’s my girl!” He leaned up and kissed her on the forehead, as he had in Dol Amroth, and she felt her cheeks get a little warm. She supposed that was some sort of Umbaran greeting - well, technically people did it sometimes where she was from, too...

He set about bandaging the wound, and now that it didn’t hurt as much, she had a moment to take stock of their situation.

In which they were alone in a tiny little room. And she was holding up her shirt and undershirt, which were both ripped beyond repair below the chest portion, to facilitate Jax’s ministrations. Which in turn necessitated him leaning quite close to her to wrap the bandage around…

How the  _ hell  _ did he still smell nice? They’d been on horseback all day! It was unfair; she probably smelled like...wet dog!  _ Bloody  _ wet dog. Ew.

When he finished up, without looking up at her or otherwise seeming to react to their closeness, she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. She  _ had  _ spurned his advances, the other day, so why would it bother her that he didn’t try again? She should be pleased he was keeping his promise.

She started to reach for her pack and smothered a yelp, then cursed under her breath.

“Will you be prudent for just one night?” Jajax asked, shaking his head. “Five minutes even?”

She just glared at him. 

“I’m just..frustrated! I’ve been taking care of myself for...well, forever. I don’t--” she sighed, not sure whether to share even this much. But in the end she remembered all he’d shared with her, after his men died, and she figured she could show him at least a little of herself. “I don’t like asking for help.”

Jajax pulled her bags closer to the chair. “Duly noted. Therefore, instead, I will offer my help to you, and then you do not have to ask.”

She cracked a smile. “I have clean shirts, in this one,” she pointed. He obliged her by pulling out a bundle of pale blue and white cloth, and handed it to her. 

“Anything else?”

“Not at the moment. But can you turn around?”

“Well, I can, but as I see it I’m not sure you will be able to manage this by yourself,” he pointed out apologetically.

“Fuck.”

“Just so.”

“Ummm…”

“I, too, am at a loss as to how we accomplish this.”

She thought for a moment. She did need his help - both getting her original things off, and getting the clean shirt on. But there was no way she was just letting him pull her clothes off her, injury or no. 

She didn’t ponder for more than one millisecond if it was his intentions or hers that were suspect.

“Alright, I’ll...I’ll turn away from you, and then you don’t have to close your eyes.”

“As you wish.”

His voice betrayed not the slightest hint of discomfiture, and she spared a second to envy how he could be so smooth all the time. 

Especially when, once he’d helped pull her original shirt over her head and forward so she could drop it to the floor, he had to practically wrap his arms around her to get her clean shirt in the right position so she could slide her arms in without stretching her middle too much. 

She felt his breath on the back of her neck when he asked, “Ayren, can I--”

“Yes!” she answered breathlessly, and then squeezed her eyes shut.  _ Be quiet, idiot. _

“...take these things and have them disposed of?” he went on seamlessly, bending over to grab her discarded shirt.

Her nostrils flared, and she cleared her throat. “Of course.”

“I’ll see if Glenarwen has anything to drink for two weary travelers, while I’m at it.”

“Perfect,” she managed with a steady voice.

While he was gone, she managed to wrap her cloak into a bundle to use as a pillow, and toss it at one end of the blankets. It was at that point that she realized...there was only one set of blankets. More than wide enough for two people, but…those two people would have to be closely acquainted.

She’d been so preoccupied with her stupid injury that she hadn’t even processed this fact when they’d walked in. Did Glenarwen think they were...together, or did she just really not have any space at all? No; she likely would have offered for Jax to sleep in the front area of the house, if she hadn’t assumed they could sleep in the same spot.

He returned quickly, with a little bread and cheese as well as two mugs of ale, and Ayren took hers eagerly, as if delaying a discussion of their sleeping arrangements would somehow make another bed appear.

“You know...if it really bothers you I would be happy to sleep in a corner of one of the other rooms,” he offered almost immediately, and she nearly choked on her ale.

“N-no,” she said once she’d swallowed. “That’s ridiculous. We’re both adults, and it’s plenty big enough.”

“If you are certain.”

“I am.” She downed the rest of her ale, then set the mug on one of the shelves. She knelt carefully, moving to the far side of the blankets near the wall, and laid down, with her head on her rolled up cloak.

She stared at the wall, and picked at the edge of the blanket. “Jax.” 

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I do owe you several favors, remember.”

“Oh. Right.” Of course, that was why he’d helped her. It figured.

#  *******

Ayren lay awake for quite some time, despite being rather exhausted. A late night, a full day of travel on horseback, a protracted fight with some half-trolls in the aid of some of Linhir’s soldiers, and then an injury had taken their toll.

But she couldn’t turn off the voice in her head that was berating her for her stupidity. 

Jax had clearly been attracted to her from the beginning, but when he’d kissed her, she’d immediately retaliated. She could have just pushed him away, or told him she didn’t appreciate it; but no, he would have no choice but to assume she held a great distaste for him, after how she’d reacted. 

And now, when he had ceased trying to make any advances on her, and had been nothing but friendly…

Now she had...thoughts. Not feelings, surely; that was too strong a word. And it was beyond stupid to wish for a return of the attitude that had prompted him to kiss her in the first place; she knew  _ that _ had only come from physical desire, nothing more, and that wasn’t how she…

That wasn’t what she wanted to…

But why? She’d had physical relationships with people here and there in her travels. She could admit she found him handsome, and interesting, so what did it matter if they partook in a “roll in the hay”, as it were, during their brief time together?

Her stomach twisted. It  _ was  _ brief; there was nothing to indicate otherwise, and almost no hope, even, of anything happening to change that. 

Normally, that would be the perfect situation in which to have some “fun” with someone. No promises, no strings, right? The mere idea caused a physical thud of pain in her chest.

She sighed and curled into a ball, or as close to one as she could while being mindful of her injury, and in so doing bumped into him slightly. Her heart sank when he moved away, and again she cursed herself for her weakness.

But he was just turning toward the wall in his sleep - and toward her - and when he did so, he unwittingly draped an arm over her, his hand resting lightly on her hip. 

Now her heart hammered, and she held her breath - afraid he would wake up and realize what he’d done, and move away. But she heard his deep breaths continue on unabated, and tried to relax. Heat pricked the back of her eyes, and she squeezed them shut; no reason to get emotional about someone turning over in their sleep! It wasn’t as if he was happy she was there - she was merely a warm body.

But as weariness finally began to claim her, she had less strength or presence of mind to talk sense into herself, and allowed her body to unbend, just a bit, in his direction. 


End file.
